


A Blindfolded Kiss

by cozywilde



Series: Smoochtober [22]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Blindfolds, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Shran and Tasnah try something to help Shran relax.





	A Blindfolded Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> [Shran](https://toyhou.se/3360890.shran), a gruff warrior with some self-esteem issues  
[Tasnah](https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=360629&tab=dragon&did=47297450), a wonderfully affectionate baker

The fabric of the blindfold draws close around Shran’s head, tighter and tighter, and he shivers as Tasnah finishes the knot with a gentle tug. He squeezes his eyes shut - it only deepens the blackness he’s in slightly - and tries to marshal his breathing, already knowing it’s too quick. 

“Shran? Are you with me?” 

Shran gives a jerky nod. It feels odd, with his hair piled on top of his head in an impromptu messy bun - it had been catching in the knot of the blindfold. He can’t remember the last time his neck was completely exposed like this. Tasnah leans in closer, his breath fanning over the back of Shran’s neck, and he stiffens, sitting up straight. 

He hears Tasnah sigh. “Shran, love, we don’t need to do this. If you’re uncomfortable -” 

It rankles, the idea that he’s so easily upset he can’t handle a flimsy little blindfold he could reach up and take off any time he wanted to. “I’m _ fine,_” Shran says, and leans back into Tasnah’s chest to prove it. “Just get on with it. The - whatever you were gonna do.” 

Tasnah takes a deep breath behind him, the motion of his chest rising and falling enough to rock Shran forward, then back. Once, then again, and again. After the third time Shran resigns himself to the fact that Tasnah isn’t about to start doing anything fast, and he sighs, dropping his head back on Tasnah’s shoulder. 

Tasnah’s got this… idea. A theory. That the reason Shran can’t seem to fucking _ relax _in bed with him is that he’s always watching, tracking every shift of eye and twitch of muscle - and the moment Tasnah does something unexpected, reaches a little too fast or holds a little too tight, Shran’s all adrenaline. It’s nothing he can control, the way he stiffens and jerks away, falling into a defensive stance. It sure kills the fucking mood, though. 

“Is this okay?” Tasnah asks, and Shran feels him shift, arms coming around him. They’re still loose, not even squeezing yet, and Shran shrugs. 

“Sure.” 

Tasnah’s arms settle more firmly, close along Shran’s sides, hands resting in his lap next to Shran’s own. After a few moments one of Tasnah’s hands shifts, scooping one of Shran’s hands into his, twining their fingers together. Someday Shran will get used to the way Tasnah’s hand dwarfs his. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. 

“You have wonderful hands, you know that, Shran?” Tasnah says, soft but strangely certain, like what he’s saying is fact, not his own highly biased opinion. He squeezes Shran’s hand as if he can hear the skepticism in his thoughts before holding him more loosely, letting his fingers play over his skin. His thumb strokes over the back of his palm in a repetitive line, and Shran realizes Tasnah’s tracing a scar. 

“Training accident,” Shran says, as if Tasnah’s pensive silence was a question. 

“Hmm?” 

Shran clears his throat. “That scar. It was a training accident. Nothing serious, one of the trainees just caught me off guard.” 

“It still must have hurt,” Tasnah says, and he raises Shran’s hand up, leaning over Shran’s shoulder to feather a kiss over it. 

“Not much,” Shran says, not really sure why he’s still arguing this. If it can be called an argument at all; Tasnah’s still so calm, chest rising and falling in that same easy rhythm. 

“I know, you’re very resilient,” Tasnah says, and normally Shran would be glaring, looking for the patronizing edge to a comment like that - but he’s almost sleepy like this, in the slow rock of Tasnah’s breathing, and Tasnah’s voice rings with sincerity. 

Tasnah folds Shran’s hand back into his lap, his own hands shifting again, resting on Shran’s thighs. His sweatpants must be getting more threadbare than he’d realized; that, or not seeing makes Shran ever-increasingly aware of the broad warmth of Tasnah’s palms, rubbing slow circles into his muscles. 

Shran grunts, weight resting a little heavier against Tasnah, and he pauses. 

“Still okay?” His thumbs trace delicate circles at the top of Shran’s thighs, barely felt. 

“...Yeah,” Shran says. It’s an odd sort of space he’s sitting in now, thoughts slow and syrupy. He realizes his eyes are half-open under the blindfold, not that it does him any good. 

Tasnah’s hands press more firmly into his thighs, and Shran’s eyes slide closed again. It feels so damn good, the slow drag of his fingers down from his hips, all the way back up from his knees. Only a goddamn giant like Tasnah could manage it in one long stroke like that, not even needing to lean forward. It’s unknotting muscles he was pretty sure were just _ like _that now, releasing strain he’s held onto for gods-know-how-many years. 

“S’good,” he mumbles unprompted. 

There’s a puff of air by his ear - a short laugh, maybe? “I’m glad,” Tasnah says. “These are wonderful too, you know.” He gives Shran’s thighs a squeeze. “Hardworking. Strong. Dependable.” 

“They’re just jelly now,” Shran grumbles woozily, and this time Tasnah’s laugh is plenty loud for Shran to hear, shaking his body. It should probably knock him out of his dreamy haze, but Shran just tucks his head against Tasnah’s shoulder, listening to Tasnah’s laughter giggle itself out, a persistent warmth in his chest. 

“Shran?” Tasnah asks, once he’s done. His hands resume that slow massage; Shran folds his arms against his belly to give him room. 

“Mm.” Tasnah doesn’t continue, so Shran musters the will to produce actual words. “Yeah?”

“Thank you, for trying this. For trusting me.” 

Shran clears his throat, nodding. “Yeah. Well. I do… want to touch you. And have you touch me.” He’s very glad of the blindfold now, half-ashamed he can only say these things without looking at Tasnah, half-proud to say them out loud at all. “It just fuckin’ sucks,” he mumbles, and the blindfold also lets him pretend he isn’t flushed all to hell right now. “My stupid reactions. I know you’re safe.” 

For the first time Tasnah’s breath goes a little shaky, and his arms tighten around Shran. It’s fine though; he knows he’s safe - _ Tasnah _ is safe. They both just breathe for a bit. Weirdly, it’s Tasnah matching his breaths to Shran’s for once. 

Even after his breath evens out, Tasnah’s voice is still low, a little rough with emotion. It’s incredible how much Shran notices now, free from the distraction of his sight. “Can I kiss you?” 

Shran’s already tipping his head back, blindly seeking. “Yeah.” He finds the side of Tasnah’s mouth with the tusk first, and Tasnah shies away a bit. Cautious, always so careful with him, when it’s infinitely more likely for Shran to take his eye out with an antler. Shran reaches up, finds his cheek, and draws him back, impatient. 

Much as he enjoys the unexpected smoothness of Tasnah’s tusk under his lips, it’s better this way. He can sink into the warm press of Tasnah’s mouth, the soft murmurs that have the tone of praise even muffled between them. Shran twists in Tasnah’s arms so he can put his hands behind Tasnah’s neck, tangled in the thick fluffiness of his hair. Tasnah gives an approving rumble at the change in position, hands sliding to cup the backs of Shran’s thighs instead. His fingers knead into the muscle, and Shran groans, sagging into Tasnah’s chest. 

“Done kissing then?” Tasnah asks, amusement clear in his voice. 

Shran nods against Tasnah’s chest, then hisses under his breath as the motion makes the blindfold ride up - even the low light in the bedroom is too much after so much darkness. Shran shakes his head, and the loosened blindfold tumbles to the bed.

Tasnah’s movements slow. “Shran? Still alright?” 

Blinking, Shran nods cautiously and looks up. Tasnah watches with a look of such gentle concern that it’s hard to meet his eyes, but Shran is still warm, still more relaxed than he can remember being for years. “I’m fine,” he says, and he means it.


End file.
